Thursday, December 11, 2014

Our problem with authority

We
Episcopalians frequently have problems with ecclesiastical authority. Here's
some anecdotal evidence:

Clergy and laity do not want bishops (or, for
that matter, any other person or group such as a Canon to the Ordinary or Executive
Council) providing authoritative guidance. At every General Convention,
diocesan convention, or clergy gathering that I attend, I detect an
undercurrent of suspicion directed toward our bishops. Admittedly, a few
bishops are inappropriately authoritarian. The suspicion, however, extends
to all bishops.

When I mention to a clergyperson or layperson
that I think we have a problem with authority, the person invariably agrees.

The recent brouhaha at General Seminary was at
least partially a conflict over authority.

Debates about denominational restructuring are
frequently couched in the language of power and authority.

More troubling,
we Episcopalians often have a problem with biblical authority. We're sure (or
at least the vast majority of us are sure) that we reject biblical literalism
and idolatry. However, we're often unsure in what sense the Bible is
authoritative or how to interpret the Bible authoritatively. Our denominational
disputes over questions such as the ordination of women and same-sex marriage
reflect this uncertainty and unease with the Bible's authority.

Some of
the roots of our discomfort with authority are readily apparent. Stories of
clergy abused by a bishop are legion. Seminarians are trained to approach both the
Bible and life with a hermeneutic of suspicion, asking, in part, who is
exercising power and who stands to benefit from that exercise of power. This
emulates important aspects of Jesus' ministry in which he challenged the destructive
economic, political, and religious power structures of first century Palestine.
Yet this also can breed distrust within the Church. Although we are a
connectional Church, congregationalism dominates the American religion scene
and increasingly taints The Episcopal Church (TEC). Post-moderns increasingly
distrust authority, associating it with a proclivity to corrupt, oppress, and
exploit.

Let's be
honest. Authority is a form of power. And, like it or not, authority has a
place in the Church.

In the
absence of authority, we would cease to be both connectional and a Church. In
the Navy, I met many Christians (and a fair number of chaplains) who had no
understanding of what it means to have a connectional polity. They regard the
Church as a gathering of independent, local congregations that have only a
nominal (or no) direct relationship with one another. The most extreme version
of this idea that I encountered was a chaplain who refused to conduct Communion
services with anyone in the military because he believed the only permissible
setting for Holy Communion was the local congregation of which he was a member.

Pushed
to its logical conclusion, congregationalism becomes individualism: each person
is the ultimate arbiter of right thinking, behavior, and relationships. In one
respect, individualism is unavoidable because no organization or person can
dictate what another person thinks or does. In another respect, however,
radical individualism displaces Jesus from the very center of Christian life. This
type of radical individualism is anarchistic and therefore anti-communal. Any
commitment to be together requires a common ordering of communal life
incompatible with radical individualism.

John's
image of Jesus as the vine and his people as the vine's branches and Paul's
image of Christians as the constituent parts of Christ's body are both
inherently connectional. In both images, life flows through Jesus to us. It
changes and invigorates us, i.e., the flow has a transformative, authoritative
power because it is a metaphor for God at work in us.

One
option for ordering our common life as the body of Christ is to make decisions
based upon mutual consent. The Quakers have traditionally opted for this
approach. Much can be said in favor of consensus, but two key disadvantages are
that consensus generally requires a great deal of time to achieve and the
larger the group, the longer time required. The largely dysfunctional US
Senate, with its rules on filibustering and cloture, reflects problems
intrinsic to requiring consensus. In some ecclesial situations, I value
consensus; as a rule, I find consensus keeps Church groups from taking timely
and effective action.

Another
option for ordering our common life as Christ's body is to entrust decisions to
an authoritative hierarchy. Few Anglicans, regardless of how much they admire
aspects of the Roman Catholic Church, want to be part of a branch of
Christianity that has such an authoritative (even authoritarian!) hierarchy.

So, we
Episcopalians and TEC, as good Anglicans, seek a middle way. We do not want
anarchy, nor consensus (we may pay the ideal lip service, but our actions
indicate that we think the cost of always reaching consensus far too high), nor
an authoritative hierarchy.

To find and
then walk a middle way, we can beneficially:

Cherish our theological diversity. In the
Anglican tradition, our unity depends upon common prayer and not
uniformity of belief. Thankfully, we have mostly abandoned prior
generations' efforts to enforce doctrinal conformity.

Invest time in developing strong connections.
Being a connectional church is costly. The cost that receives the most
attention is the money that flows from local congregations to the diocese
and from dioceses to the national church. However, the more important
cost, all too frequently ignored, is the time required to develop and
sustain real connections across congregational and diocesan boundaries. If
I spend no time with Episcopalians who are not part of my congregation,
then my sense of connection is strictly notional rather than actual.
Dioceses typically have a companion diocese in another province of the
Anglican Communion. Dioceses could also have companion dioceses within TEC.
Similarly, our congregations could engage in real mission partnerships
with adjoining TEC congregations. I am willing to bet that currently less
than one percent of Episcopalians have any direct involvement or knowledge
of either their diocese or the national church. When was the last time
that your congregation or diocese initiated a joint meal (aka the
Eucharist) with another congregation or diocese? Having failed to spend
(invest) the time required to become a connectional Church, we are now
reaping a harvest of discontent and disinterest.

Stop sweating the small stuff (and it's all, or
mostly all, small stuff). Ultimately, TEC, its clergy, and its
congregations have little real power. Our unity is more valuable than our
differences. We cannot prevent God from acting; we cannot start a war (I'd
like to think that we could stop a war, but doubt that we have that much
power); we're not going to solve any of the world's major problems in the
next triennium (or even three millennia). Therefore, let's value our unity
and color our inevitable conflicts with the warm hues of love and mutual respect.

Trust those with whom we pray to make good
decisions. In healthy, functional couples, each partner makes some of the
couple's decisions unilaterally, usually based upon expertise and
interest; the couple makes a minority of their decisions jointly. Some
couples intentionally choose who will make which decision; other couples
establish the pattern of their decision-making more informally. Over time,
as circumstances change, the pattern of decision-making will also change.
A similar pattern should exist within a healthy, functional community: not
every member has an interest in every decision; involving everyone in
every decision is too costly and cumbersome; the pattern of
decision-making needs to change as circumstances change. My sense is both
that TEC's pattern of decision-making has remained stagnant too long and
now is out of sync with circumstances and that too few Episcopalians trust
one another to make good decisions about our common life. Furthermore,
most of our contentious denominational issues, viewed from the broad
perspective of God's creation, is small stuff. Generally, the fight is
over resources. That battle masks the real problem, our weak commitment to
the mission of Christ, our dioceses, and our national church that
manifests itself in terms of a low level of proportional giving.

Retain only the minimum levels of ecclesial
authority compatible with being a connectional Church. What ministries and
missions are only possible when we work together? What ministries and
missions are best achieved cooperatively? What organizational structures,
invested with what authority, will most effectively and efficiently
accomplish those ministries and missions? For example, common prayer
requires an authoritative set of practices (words and action), i.e., a set
of practices actually required and used. This set can encompass a healthy,
broad diversity but imposes some limits, e.g., our scriptures are the
Bible and not the Koran or the Teachings of the Buddha. Setting these
limits does not exalt our practices or demean those of others; instead,
boundaries create our identity. The Book of Common Prayer's liturgies are
too confining; alternatively, allowing bishops, priests, or congregations
to develop their own liturgies would quickly erode both our common prayer
and connections. We should keep the Book of Common Prayer and supplement
it with a large, fluid collection of resources.

Adopt an annual Advent discipline of
self-examination to discern your personal level of comfort (or discomfort)
with authority. The gospel narrative is ultimately a story about authority
and power. Genuine dialogue requires participants try to understand their
own issues and motivations. To what extent does the authority of
Scripture—however understood—grate? Do you read the Bible in the hope that
God will illuminate your life and path? When, for this is something we all
do, do you read the Bible seeking to find confirmation of what you believe
and how you live? When and why do you resent ecclesial authority?